cleaning the closet

My closet has been a mess prolly for the majority of the time we’ve been in the house. It’s 8′x14′ and just accumulates shit. Clothes, boxes, stuff I donno what else to do with… A lot of my subconscious was in that closet. I cleaned it this weekend.

I donated 2 gynormious bags of clothing to goodwill. All of it stuff I’ve been meaning to for a long time, but haven’t. Some shit I’ve had since high school (yes, going on 15 years now, I know) and there’s no way I’d wear them again. I had questionable taste in high school… didn’t everyone?

Anyway… I also got rid of my fat clothes. I kinda had thought we’d already gotten rid of them, but no. Size 16s and 18s galore, none cute or nice or in any way meant to make a girl feel good about herself. I donno if it was just that there wasn’t decent shit around or if it was that I was shopping in the wrong places. I tried hard to find shit that wasn’t either matronly or butch, but… well… It was all pretty much fug.

And still in my closet. Like I’d need it again one day.

When? How could I possibly let myself get back to that particular level of hell? Why?

Did I sabotage myself with the knowledge that if I fucked up the worst that was gonna happen was that I was gonna have to wear some fug polyester dress till I took the weight back off? Maybe. Probably.

Hell, it’s not even like some of this shit was packed up. I had on one long rack size 3 to size 16. The 18s were packed.

So everything that was too big, too ugly, or too slutty (regardless of size) was out. I shit you not when I say the bags were hyooge. Like… mondo construction drum liners… easily 70-100 pounds of clothing in each. And that wasn’t everything, that’s just the stuff I hauled out before heading to goodwill that wasn’t just trash.

There’s really no reason to keep anything bigger than I can wear. I mean, I shouldn’t be needing it. Right? RIGHT!?!

So there’s a problem there. I had in the back of my head that I might need it. Of course I wouldn’t. Except that by thinking I would, I went ahead and made sure I did.

Of course, it’s all to ugly to wear so I had to buy new shit anyway. And I had gotten very little on my rapid decent… I wore size 16 jeans until I got 10s until I got 5s.

But knowing that shit was there to catch me made it far safer to fall. If you know letting go means certain fucking death, you cling to that and don’t let yourself fall. If you know there’s something to catch you?

So they’re gone. And as I dig myself out of this whole mess I’ve gotten myself into the things I have now will go. It’ll be painful if I gain weight. It’s be painful to the bank account as well as everything else. It’ll require action besides reaching further back into the closet. And the action it’ll require will be jolt enough to realize something is fucking wrong again and needs fixing.

I didn’t think it could happen, but I knew it would somewhere in my mind and it did. Now I know it can, and did, and will again if I am not vigilant and determined. And I will be. Cuz there isn’t the safety net.

And really, what grown woman needs a frickin Star Trek Tshirt anyway? :-P

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